


Hide Us From His Wrath

by CReed



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Hannibal cast - Freeform, M/M, Romance, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Through the seasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21990685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CReed/pseuds/CReed
Summary: Will has always had this thing inside him, this part of himself that he kept buried and hidden. To think, it took one moment, one chance meeting, one man for everything he ever denied himself to come clawing to the surface. He has been nurtured and cultivated, the fragile soul inside him cared for with the utmost planning and meticulous treatment. To get something to grow to its most beautiful potential, you have to cut it down to almost nothing. This is his most holy design and he will not let himself cower in the shadows any longer.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	Hide Us From His Wrath

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I will ever be over these two. But you know, if one is to be stuck on something, why not something like this? I'll tell you one thing, it's helping with my writer's block. This isn't one of those “five times plus one” things. Just moments in the show that I noticed when Will's darker side really comes out. I didn't feel this was an M story but it's a stretched T, in a way.
> 
> I hope anyone reading has a safe and happy holiday season. Please enjoy!

**I**

It wasn't his childhood. It wasn't his father's financial status. It wasn't even the unstable home life, his broken family. None of that mattered, really. Sometimes something just _is_. Those factors could have a terrible effect, he wouldn't dispute that, but it didn't set anything in stone. There wouldn't be the idea of “breaking the cycle” if that were the case. One couldn't be whittled down and explained away by just a series of influences.

Sometimes the proper stuff is just inside you.

It was a notion that Will had been learning more and more recently. Ever since Jack Crawford swept into his classroom with a request that was more a demand. His whole life he kept certain thoughts and feelings safely locked away. Certain urges and desires. A splendid shadow that traced the edges of the light. Ready and waiting and always, always there. It was one of the things that made him so good at what he did. His keen awareness that let him interpret evidence unlike anyone else.

He saved lives and helped others become better profilers, so they in turn could save more lives. This darkness was always there and Will learned to use it to his advantage. No matter the strain. To think and understand. To step so easily into that frame of mind. It was never what he would call fun. It was never enjoyable. This was something he had to do in order to contain it, to keep it controlled and hidden. This was the best, safest, way to appease the monster inside him. And he was never tempted to unleash what lurked beneath his skin.

Until now.

Except that wasn't quite right. For all his imaginative capabilities, for all of the “evil minds” he had mirrored, Will had never felt this way before. In the last month or so, Dr. Lecter had become someone Will considered a friend. As ludicrous as that seemed. If someone told him the pompous, over-stepping man he met in Jack's office during the Minnesota Shrike case would become someone who Will confided in and valued their opinion above most others, he would have laughed in their face and maybe even punched them for good measure.

But it was true. Already they had bonded over so many things, from the traumatic to the mundane. Will valued Hannibal, as ridiculous as the psychiatrist was. With his stupid hair always just so, plaid suits and fucking paisley pocket squares. Will had seen Hannibal cool and collected, ready to stop a victim of a poor kidney surgery from bleeding out, to affectionate and warm towards Abigail. So many ways this man continued to surprise him. So many ways he had seen him.

Not like this.

When Will heard Tobias Budge went to Hannibal's office after escaping arrest, a sick and clammy feeling settled deep inside him. Jack had to drive him. His head felt as if it were splitting open and he was sure his ear drum was bleeding after he fired his gun so close to his own head. Reckless. Dangerous. If only the shot had been more effective. But his pain didn't matter as he pushed through the police and technicians leading to Hannibal's office. As the coroner wheeled out another body, Will almost pushed Jack out of the way to get inside the room. The crime scene. He had to know. Had to make sure.

The only emotion stronger than his relief at seeing Hannibal alive was his anger. White-hot and blinding. Will didn't linger, afraid Hannibal or Jack would sense the rage threatening to consume him. Hannibal was safe. That's all that mattered. For the remainder of the day, long into the night, Will stayed in his office, channeling his fury into something productive. If he let himself pause for even a moment he lost himself in fantasies of what he would do if Tobias was alive.

Tobias could no longer be the recipient of his righteous anger so Will set his sights on someone else. He pulled out case files once again and began his study. He made himself look at every report, every photo. When it got to be too intense he would take another painkiller. Tobias was out of his reach but the Chesapeake Ripper wasn't.

Every time he felt himself getting lost, every time a pounding pulse of pain arced across his skull, he remembered Hannibal. Every cut. Every bruise. Every perfect angle and seam out of place. It fueled Will's rage. He had never felt this way before. It was breathtaking. He didn't question it. In the back of his mind he thought he heard a whisper. A gentle, smoky memory. A declaration of wanting a guardian against serpents. In and out of his head as quick as it came. Lost beneath theories and leads on Will's new prey.

Will couldn't explain the fervor that came over him. In a way, perhaps, he should thank Tobias Budge. He helped Will harness the darkness inside him and he was ready to put it to use. And it felt glorious.

**II**

What a difference a day made. Isn't that what they said? Will never really put too much thought into sentiments. Hardly was he ever sentimental. Most days he was drowning in feelings but the beauty was, they were hardly ever his. Now, he was so full of his own emotions he wished he was on a case and could focus on something else, someone else.

If this was what happened when people had friends in their lives, he'd rather be a hermit. If this was what it was like to care for someone and have them pulverize his heart, he'd rather be numb to everything. He didn't want this. He didn't want these feelings. He would give anything to go back to his feverish fog, blissfully ignorant.

He would rather have a dream-like lie than this. To know none of the last few months were true. It wasn't Jack's exploitative interest. It wasn't Alana's near infantilizing pity. A curiosity. To see what someone like him would do. It was all only ever a game. Will was stupid to think someone finally saw him. Understood. Accepted.

Will prowled his cell. Every moment they shared. Lies. He dared not stop pacing, thinking and plotting; otherwise he would obsess over the conversations he remembered and a strange mix of sorrow and rage would swallow him.

Hannibal lied to him.

Hannibal used him.

Hannibal played with him.

Will pressed his face to the cold stone of his cell, sighing at the contact. It was almost like he was feverish with sickness all over again. He took a few steadying breaths. Too bad there wasn't a clock he could see. Time wasn't supposed to mean anything anymore inside the hospital for the criminally insane, but Will ached to know. It couldn't have been more than an hour since he made his demands. A favor Matthew Brown was only too happy to help him out with. To Will it was a small eternity.

He smiled at the thought. Just imagining what could be happening now made him calm enough to sit on his cot. He slumped against the wall, taking notice of the quiet sounds from the cell behind him. Will was certain Gideon would tip someone off about his plans. If he hadn't already. It mattered little. Whatever happened, successful or not, Will would get what he wanted: Hannibal to realize that Will wasn't helpless, even behind bars and locked deep within a dreary prison. 

He would have his reckoning, one way or another. And all the consequences after.

A lot of it had to do with Beverly. He wouldn't deny that. As much as he faulted her mostly for her fate, he couldn't help his remorse for what happened. Too late was she to piece it together and then failed to heed his warnings. Part of it had to do with protecting Alana and Jack. They were both too deep in it to see. If they would just take a step back it would all be so glaringly obvious. But that's why Hannibal was so good at what he did. How many people had he bewitched and dazzled over the years? Hundreds, Will was willing to bet.

That's what it was mostly about. Will could admit that. In the darkness of his cell, with only himself and the memories of the dead, Will only had his truths. Tears welled along his lashes and he didn't think less of himself when a few fell. All that talk of being the same. Of being Will's paddle against the churning waters of chaos he often found himself. Of being together in their feelings of paternal affection and protectiveness for Abigail. It was all an elaborate web of lies. And Will trapped himself within it so easily because he had never wanted something so badly as he wanted that. As badly as he wanted them.

His internal clock told him it was dark by now. What he set into motion should be playing out. Matthew didn't seem the type to dawdle. The thought made him smile, the first genuine feeling of happiness he'd had in a while. It was almost enough to penetrate the rage that had clung to him in a comforting haze since that last night in Minnesota.

He was so fucking angry. For Abigail. For himself. Will let his eyes drift shut and rested his head against the cold wall. Soon it should all be over, one way or another. He took a deep breath, letting the calm he found at the thought wash over him. As he drifted off to sleep, one last thing flitted through his mind and brought a sharp smile to his trembling mouth. His heart was broken and now he hoped Matthew Brown cut Hannibal Lecter's out of his chest.

**III**

His head hurt. If it was just Hannibal with him, he would even say aloud he had a _splitting_ headache. And now Will knew he was out of it if he was wistfully thinking about the puns he could be making. Still, it was better than the hysteria threatening to crawl its way out of him in the form of a howling scream. If he started he may never stop.

He'd been through so many emotional upheavals lately. Some within the last forty-eight hours. He couldn't say if it was elation, rage or sorrow that made his chest feel as if it were caving in. Hell, he would just name it all three. A giggle almost burbled out of him. To think, not even a day before, he found Hannibal. Battered, bruised and more beautiful than ever before. A sadness to him that, with the sight of Will, seemed to lessen and grow all at once. Beneath a scene of love and marriage. Captured in paint for timeless admiration.

A lovely reunion that Will would cherish every day, forever. If only they had both made different decisions after. Will couldn't say if he really would have stabbed Hannibal, let alone killed him. Reciprocity was an on-going theme between them, however, they were beyond that now. Everything that happened in Baltimore seemed so far away. Someone else' shattered life. Will just wanted to move on. Grieve their daughter. Together. Even after everything. After this new turn of play.

Will didn't think Hannibal wanted the outcome they had. Sure, he would have committed. Hannibal was many things, but wishy-washy he was not. His head throbbed with renewed pain, perhaps a rebuttal to his thoughts. He knew him though. Will knew him like he knew himself. If they hadn't been interrupted, Will would be dead and Hannibal would have regretted his choice the rest of his life. And the man never had any regrets.

Perhaps that was what he had counted on. A horror show for Jack. A gift of reciprocity for Will. A final scene for all those in Florence who sought him. Hannibal did so love to play games. Will swallowed back a wave of nausea that came with the pain as he considered every other option they might have had. Oddly enough, this was probably their best chance. If he had attempted an arrest, and Will snorted at the thought, the local cops would have intercepted and possibly killed him without being able to hide his abduction. And the reunion Will really wanted, well, it didn't bear thinking. If they had let their guard down, let themselves be entirely vulnerable with each other, what could have happened if Jack or anyone else found them in such a tender moment? No. Such moments were only for Will and Hannibal.

But those outcomes didn't come to pass. They both were injured, Will moreso. And now they found themselves at the mercy of a sadist. At least they were together. Will felt a flush of anger under his skin at the thought of Hannibal being taken here alone. He glanced at Hannibal, entirely ignoring Mason Verger. The foul garbage this man spewed... Will felt it like oil dripping down his nerves. He focused on Hannibal and couldn't help feeling lighter for a moment. Strapped down and threatened, Hannibal seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. Was there ever a situation where he wouldn't find pleasure?

Hannibal was talking to Mason's strange companion, Cordell, and Will once more filtered the words back in, now that it wasn't arrogant chattering. So, Mason fancied himself a cannibal now? Will wanted to laugh. Could he be any more obvious in his twisted jealousy? He wanted to rub it in Mason's mutilated face: it didn't matter what he did or who he killed, he could never come close to being Hannibal's equal, his better.

The more they talked, the more a quiet, calming rage engulfed Will. They spoke of not only taking Will's face in some absurd transplant, but then also Mason wearing his skin to eat Hannibal. To even entertain such thoughts and follow through with at least the abduction stage of the plan spoke to such levels of arrogance that Will had never seen before.

They thought themselves untouchable, godlike in their invincibility. So sure that money and prestige would keep them safe. And why not? It worked so far. Mason obviously had a group of doctors in his pocket, it would be stupid not to assume his reach didn't extend to the police as well. That thought made his anger spike, hot and wild and barely contained.

Cordell was all too happy to explain in detail his plans for Hannibal's flesh. And Hannibal was only too happy to listen, giving their host a pleasant smile. Will knew better. Hannibal's cheer had nothing to do with placating Mason or endearing himself to Cordell. Hannibal enjoyed their boasting and scheming because their threats would be all the sweeter when he tore out their tongues. Let them talk while they could. Let them think they won.

Mason thought they were leashed, helpless and bound.

Will didn't black out. A red haze didn't cloud his vision. His heart was slow and spirit calm. Like it always was when he found himself in situations like this. Serene. A steadily flowing stream he patiently sank his bait into. All he needed then was to wait. Cordell leaned close after Mason snottily demanded Will be moisturized and Will did not hesitate. His flesh gave easily beneath Will's teeth. A slight popping sensation, like the snap of a sausage casing. Hot saltiness gushed into his mouth, some down his throat, but mostly along his chin and neck. 

As Cordell bellowed in pain, hand shaking as he cupped protectively the wound on his cheek, Will leaned as far as he could over the table to spit a chunk of flesh from his dripping mouth. It splattered the garish dinnerware in red and Will rolled his shoulders as nonchalantly as he could. His body language unmistakable, even for a simple pig like Mason to understand. Him and Cordell, as bound as he was, weren't worth Will's fear. They were nothing but disgusting sacks of meat that weren't even fit to eat.

Of course that didn't mean he wasn't affected. Mason took pleasure in further threats. His actions most definitely earned him as much torture as possible at Cordell's hands. None of that mattered. If he were to die, so be it. He looked to Hannibal and couldn't help basking in the look of adoration from the doctor. Pride and love and hunger. All in that one look. Aimed at no one else. Just Will.

It was a terrible, hopeless mess they found themselves in. Unspeakably ugly for all the plans Will had. As desolate as everything was, Will couldn't help wanting to be saved. He needed to live. Will leveled his eyes on Hannibal, licking blood from his lips. He wanted so very much for them both to survive. He had such plans for his good doctor.

**IV**

Will knew this would be hard. In his relatively short existence he had seen some ghastly things. He had witnessed the aftermath of so much horror. Nightmares from other people's lives that he helped reconstruct piece by bloody piece. Personally, he had felt pain beyond the excruciating. The kind of the physical and that of the soul. Will had been through Hell and had the scars to prove it, but this was killing him.

It started the moment Hannibal walked away from him, delicate wrists enclosed in cold metal. Jack Crawford nearly euphoric as he followed Hannibal to a waiting police car. So many times since Will had to remind himself this was part of his design. He set this in motion and now they had to let it ride. He had to be strong. For both their sake. Knowing didn't make it easier.

And so the circus began.

Every detail, every cherished private thing between them was put on display for people who didn't deserve to know. Most of it was embellished. Whatever sounded titillating in big bold headlines. However, every myth contained a germ of truth no matter how deeply buried beneath sensationalism. As vague and professional as Will tried to keep it, vultures swooped in to scatter the bones and tender flesh of things he kept close to his heart. Words like “entrapment” and “unorthodox tactics” quickly turned to “honey trap” and “unprofessional affair.” Jack Crawford's bloodhound became a vixen overnight, with Will's more flattering pictures splashed all over every tabloid in the country.

They had no fucking right.

Never before had Will felt so completely helpless. The rage inside him useless and impotent. All he could do was get dragged along and watch as everyone made a spectacle of Hannibal. It made him sick. He imagined black bile overflowing his insides as the trial went on. The lies they told. Jack. Alana. Margot. Himself. Hannibal was the most honest of them all. A fact that had never really changed and Will was too late to notice or understand. It was a burning, gnawing ache deep in his chest whenever he had to attend the court room, Hannibal never more than a few feet from him. Impeccable and ethereally handsome as the day they met.

The hunt began unknowingly, as the uglier part of the trial began. It wasn't until Will noticed he ran into the same woman for the fifth time that he understood what his intentions were. After that, it was all too easy to orchestrate a chance meeting where they could talk a little more, exchange more than a timid smile between them. Molly. How fortunate it was that she had car trouble just as he was passing by.

The bait was set. He couldn't bear to name it after his most cherished person. He didn't need luck anyway. A few boyish smiles. Playing to her affinity for rugged, outdoorsy men. To her, he was kind. A sweet man. She was hooked. In another three weeks he was invited to dinner to meet her son. As a fire crackled merrily in the rustic living room, cozy shadows flickering all around, they laughed and played board games. The remains of dinner long gone. Warmth and happiness invaded every corner of the house. Molly and Walter. Molly and Wally.

They were exactly what he needed.

If Jack, Alana or even Chilton were suspicious they never said a word. If anything, they encouraged it. Jack thought he was back on his track. Alana was so busy with her own gilded trough, the secrets she now had to hide for the rest of her luxurious life, that she couldn't care less what he was up to. And Chilton...It didn't take him long to trademark “Hannibal the Cannibal.” Tasteless. No one cared. No one questioned. No one suspected a goddamn thing. Before the closing arguments were even written up, Will was married.

Days became weeks. Weeks became months. Before Will knew it, time trickled into a year and another and another. He wasn't dissociating but it was near enough. A small blessing. Wedding rings. Barbecues. Christmas parties with in-laws and his wife's coworkers. Ball games. Potlucks. A church bake sale here and there. Picking up Wally after soccer practice. School plays. Summer vacations. Sex in a marriage bed that he did not belong in. Someone else' life that he did not want. It was all terribly ordinary.

With every passing day he felt a part of himself slip away. Everything floated away like dust, except for his anger. That was ever present. Whenever he thought about the sham of supposed justice that was served he nurtured his rage until it was a brilliant, glowing wonder. A part of himself felt bad for Molly and Walter. He would spare them what he could. But one day as he read the newspaper over breakfast and saw details of the grotesque murder of a family in Chicago he began to feel something stirring. And then another family in Buffalo. It was as if the clouds parted and beautiful golden rays of sun shone down on him. The first time in over three years that he felt warm.

It was almost time and Will knew he was approaching their endgame.

**V**

Will was not a stranger to anger. In fact, since he met Hannibal, he would say anger was a common emotion he felt on a daily occurrence. Among other things Hannibal made him feel. Not much had changed. Maybe the intensity of what he felt. Everything seemed amplified since he walked into Hannibal's cell.

Perhaps that was why he felt the way he did now. When first planning, he had to push any misgivings away. There could be no hesitation. He had one chance. Even knowing someone could get hurt or killed. It had to be done. But then they found their reliable source for the Tattle Crime interview and Will no longer held any pity for him.

Alana. Beautiful, icy Alana was too smart to sit in on the fake interview. To enrage the Red Dragon they would have to go for the jugular. Right where it hurt. To draw him out. Will had planned to take most of the Dragon's attention. But now...With all the history and experience he had, he couldn't remember ever feeling this way. This bright and burning rage. It was heady and seductive, almost as much as the feeling after. A clear certainty of what he would do to the person who offended him so grievously. Was this how Hannibal felt after someone dared to be rude?

The thought made him ache. Will could feel him as if he were in the room with him. Close. So close yet so far out of reach. The longing almost eclipsed the anger. Almost. A part of him wished he went with Alana to collect Chilton instead of staying behind in her office. Like many decisions in his life, curiosity made him flip on the intercom to Hannibal's cell. He smiled, amused at the thought that having all the keys to Hannibal's freedom wasn't enough for Alana. She also had to have a direct line. Always watching. Always listening. It made sense. Especially after the doctor's last stunt with Dolarhyde.

Will's amusement vanished, however, as he listened to the conversation between Hannibal and his guest. Instantly his plans changed, morphing into something that would change the course of everyone's lives involved in this mess. He had to fully commit now. There would be no going back after this. No plausible deniability to hide behind. It would have to be his best performance yet, in a series of increasingly elaborate scenes of theatricality. He could leave no doubt for the others to pick up on. Whenever any moment of second-guessing crept up on him he replayed the conversation he overheard between Hannibal and Chilton. It echoed through his mind with sickening clarity.

Chilton dared to threaten? He thought he could dangle Hannibal's safety and dignity before him like it was some kind of game? And not pay the price? _“The young ones will push you around and use you for sex. The only thing you'll be able to read is what you'll write on the walls.”_

Will would burn the world down around them, around Chilton, before he let that happen. With a sigh he checked his watch and made his way to Jack and Freddie. They had a dragon to enrage. Will had a pig to roast.

**VI**

If there was ever a moment he wanted to remember forever, it would be this one. The gleaming emotions pulsing through him with the beat of his heart, in time with the beating heart pressed against him. It masked the pain. This cosmic rage. The only thing to compete with it, that cut through it, was the feeling of Hannibal. In his arms. Around him. Against him. Nuzzling so sweetly, so needy, into Will's blood-soaked hair. Clinging as Will clutched.

Will ran his hand up and along Hannibal's shoulder to pull him ever closer. He could feel the warmth and strength beneath his palms, coiled tight and ready for whatever might come next. A reminder of their victory. Alive and breathing and so much better than the version Will kept safe in the forest of his mind. Though, Hannibal was fatigued and injured. The good doctor did not escape unscathed and it would take time and care to get him back to his former glory.

Another ripple of rage fluttered through Will at the thought. It was intoxicating. He leaned back just far enough to look Hannibal over. His careful fingertips traced across Hannibal's features, leaving behind smears of blood that glittered black beneath the full moon. So perfect. So beautiful. Hannibal always had the ability to make Will's breath catch, thoughts stutter to a stop, whenever he managed to look him in the eye. In the three years of separation, it seemed this had not changed.

Hannibal was looking at him now. The pain he was in had to be immense. They would need to find a way to check Hannibal's gun shot wound soon or their reunion would be a short one. Even so, Hannibal couldn't seem to take his eyes off him. Like he was seeing something he spent a lifetime looking for and realizing, once found, it was even better than what he imagined. Like Will just gave him everything he ever wanted.

Will had to swallow his rage to focus on what was real and whole before him. He almost lost this. He could still lose this precious gift. If Dolarhyde wasn't already growing cold Will would stab him again. To think that monster, the _dragon_ , believed Will would stand by while he killed and raped Hannibal set his blood on fire. To think Dolarhyde believed Will would let him touch him. Will would die first. He only noticed he was stroking Hannibal's bloody jaw with his thumb because Hannibal leaned into his touch, starved and rapturous at the contact.

“It's beautiful,” Will whispered as he pulled Hannibal to him in a gentle, bloody kiss. Sweet copper. As dark as the universe between the stars. Hot as the sun and just as damaging. _No greater love hath man._ The thought echoed through Will's mind as he pressed closer, ignoring the pain if he could have just one more kiss.

It felt like falling.

**Author's Note:**

> I have this idea about Will Graham since I first watched the show and even now: he has anger issues and a lot of the time on the show, they come out with disastrous effects for someone when either Hannibal has really made him angry or someone threatened Hannibal. It doesn't end well for the person making threats. That's all I'm saying. 
> 
> Mongoose beneath the house, indeed!


End file.
